Another season of football approaches and it could be fascinating. The final friendly was against a team from the third division. They didn't seem that bad but were slaughtered.
Perhaps it was down to the general ebullience of our two recruits who seemed to gel. I later found out that they played indoors each week with the star player Laurent. Well, it will be interesting when all three of them are on the pitch together.
I was dropped back to midfield to make way for the new man up front. The self-sacrifice.
It bore fruits as he scored a hatful and has pace. It means a kind of pass that I haven't been able to play - the one into space for him to run onto. I sense a learning curve coming on.
Sunday, 19 September 2010
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Tennis Times
Not quite sure how this happened but I've become tennised up.
The annual journalists' tournament at Roland Garros is taking place at the same time - I was going to use contemporaneously - as another tournament for journalists at the nearby Tennis Club de Boulogne Billancourt.
I found out about the latter two years ago when I was in Beijing. While sitting at my desk in the Ice Station Zebra that masqueraded as the press hangar, there was this email from the Open ISCA to come and take part.
I duly registered and I was invited to play. I asked where the Open ISCA got my name from and the organiser told me they dipped into the database of journalists registered to cover Roland Garros and picked me.
I ended up playing against the same bloke that I played against at the Roland Garros tournament. Lost badly first at Roland Garros but a few weeks later with my post Beijing fitness returning I lost less badly.
Last year at Roland Garros I wasn't really in a fit state as I'd been dealing with my dad's death all summer and was paired in the first round against someone who clearly had played well before. Tournaments he told me as I attempted to break sweat after a 6-1 6-0 annihilation.
It was the same at the Boulogne Billancourt event.
However 2010 has brought a bit more success in that I won my first round matches at both tournaments.
On a Thursday full of fun I played at 10am in the Open ISCA and won and then at 1pm had to play my second round match at Roland Garros. Not ideal.
I said to the missus on Thursday night I don't know how much of a bearing that early match made on the second. I think I was in better physical shape than my second adversary but he had better technique and range of shots.
I am at least contented that I did better than last year. I beat the guys I should have beaten and that is a start.
I am going back to Roland Garros on Friday morning with my tennis coach Rafael.
The great thing is that after you've been eliminated from the Roland Garros extravaganza you can go back with a mate. So I shall try a few returns there before the whole thing closes down on September 25.
This rampant individualism detracts me from the team game that is my football side.
On Saturday there is the second warm up match before the season proper. If the first warm up game is anything to go by it is going to be a stiflingly long season in the second division.
The goal is not to be promoted and not to be relegated. The first division last season was not much fun. I don't think the third division would bring much joy either.
There are a couple of new players. A forward and a midfielder. I shall doubtless shuffle between attack and the middle as befits the needs of the team.
But at what cost to myself?
Hang on that sounds like faux woe.
The annual journalists' tournament at Roland Garros is taking place at the same time - I was going to use contemporaneously - as another tournament for journalists at the nearby Tennis Club de Boulogne Billancourt.
I found out about the latter two years ago when I was in Beijing. While sitting at my desk in the Ice Station Zebra that masqueraded as the press hangar, there was this email from the Open ISCA to come and take part.
I duly registered and I was invited to play. I asked where the Open ISCA got my name from and the organiser told me they dipped into the database of journalists registered to cover Roland Garros and picked me.
I ended up playing against the same bloke that I played against at the Roland Garros tournament. Lost badly first at Roland Garros but a few weeks later with my post Beijing fitness returning I lost less badly.
Last year at Roland Garros I wasn't really in a fit state as I'd been dealing with my dad's death all summer and was paired in the first round against someone who clearly had played well before. Tournaments he told me as I attempted to break sweat after a 6-1 6-0 annihilation.
It was the same at the Boulogne Billancourt event.
However 2010 has brought a bit more success in that I won my first round matches at both tournaments.
On a Thursday full of fun I played at 10am in the Open ISCA and won and then at 1pm had to play my second round match at Roland Garros. Not ideal.
I said to the missus on Thursday night I don't know how much of a bearing that early match made on the second. I think I was in better physical shape than my second adversary but he had better technique and range of shots.
I am at least contented that I did better than last year. I beat the guys I should have beaten and that is a start.
I am going back to Roland Garros on Friday morning with my tennis coach Rafael.
The great thing is that after you've been eliminated from the Roland Garros extravaganza you can go back with a mate. So I shall try a few returns there before the whole thing closes down on September 25.
This rampant individualism detracts me from the team game that is my football side.
On Saturday there is the second warm up match before the season proper. If the first warm up game is anything to go by it is going to be a stiflingly long season in the second division.
The goal is not to be promoted and not to be relegated. The first division last season was not much fun. I don't think the third division would bring much joy either.
There are a couple of new players. A forward and a midfielder. I shall doubtless shuffle between attack and the middle as befits the needs of the team.
But at what cost to myself?
Hang on that sounds like faux woe.
Sunday, 12 September 2010
Changing Times
Apparently it's going to pour down in Paris later this Sunday. I'll miss the deluge as it's bright and sunny in London. As I strode to the metro station this morning, I suddenly remembered that I'd left my brolly behind in the flat.
My theory being that what happens in Paris usually hits London. So by the time I emerge from the office in London I'll be in the rain.
While men of yore circumnavigated the globe, these kind of conundrums are my beasts to conquer. Clearly I'll have to get a fold up umbrella for my locker iat the office n London. That way I can travel with confidence.
I bumped into my mate Robin at the Gare du Nord this morning. He was on his way to meet his mum and sister. Sister has her art on show at a gallery in London. The opening view is on Monday night and I might venture into Soho after my shift to mop up any glasses of wine.
That's the kind of art I can buy into.
My theory being that what happens in Paris usually hits London. So by the time I emerge from the office in London I'll be in the rain.
While men of yore circumnavigated the globe, these kind of conundrums are my beasts to conquer. Clearly I'll have to get a fold up umbrella for my locker iat the office n London. That way I can travel with confidence.
I bumped into my mate Robin at the Gare du Nord this morning. He was on his way to meet his mum and sister. Sister has her art on show at a gallery in London. The opening view is on Monday night and I might venture into Soho after my shift to mop up any glasses of wine.
That's the kind of art I can buy into.
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
The Symmetry
London and Paris were a reflection today. There was a Tube strike in London and in Paris there was similar action. It's remiss of me but I haven't been following the details as to why the workers are angry.
How can I sympathise if I'm unaware? Well I went out on Monday night to Shoreditch House with a mate. I almost felt cool and trendy. Didn't overdo it as there was the small matter of returning to Paris on Tuesday morning.
Would the roads be clogged? The bus came at 6.30am and 20 minutes later I was at St Pancras. I was on the 7.27am and in Paris a matter of hours later.
For the sake of completion I took the bus from the Gare du Nord.
And as for the schools they were disrupted but four days into term. I'm not quite sure what impression this gives pupils but it's not what I'd call brilliant for the new children - ie the likes of my eldest.
They're going off on Wednesday for their half day.
At least the trains will be running.
How can I sympathise if I'm unaware? Well I went out on Monday night to Shoreditch House with a mate. I almost felt cool and trendy. Didn't overdo it as there was the small matter of returning to Paris on Tuesday morning.
Would the roads be clogged? The bus came at 6.30am and 20 minutes later I was at St Pancras. I was on the 7.27am and in Paris a matter of hours later.
For the sake of completion I took the bus from the Gare du Nord.
And as for the schools they were disrupted but four days into term. I'm not quite sure what impression this gives pupils but it's not what I'd call brilliant for the new children - ie the likes of my eldest.
They're going off on Wednesday for their half day.
At least the trains will be running.
Sunday, 5 September 2010
La Rentrée
The term rentrée should come with a warning. The children go back to school so that the trade unions can turf them out again because of strikes.
The season's first strike finds my eldest barely into her second week at secondary school. It's in the 15th arrondissement which is about a 20 minute metro ride from our flat.
Apparently there'll be one train in three on Tuesday so she'll be able to get there albeit in crushed circumstances. However the head of the school says she doesn't know how many of her teachers will be on strike. So effectively the eldest could get there and not have any lessons. The fact that the head knows that the canteen will not function merely underlines all the lurid cliches about the French.
The season's first strike finds my eldest barely into her second week at secondary school. It's in the 15th arrondissement which is about a 20 minute metro ride from our flat.
Apparently there'll be one train in three on Tuesday so she'll be able to get there albeit in crushed circumstances. However the head of the school says she doesn't know how many of her teachers will be on strike. So effectively the eldest could get there and not have any lessons. The fact that the head knows that the canteen will not function merely underlines all the lurid cliches about the French.
Tuesday, 25 May 2010
Roland Garros Fun Day 1
One day you’re in a final and the next year you don’t even make the second round. It’s a grim business this tennis circuit.
Sure the sun may be shining and the clay court technicians might be finding their angles and sliding into their shots but Dinara Safina was top spinning incarnate.
The former world number one was a double break up in the final set against the 39 year old Japanese player Kimiko Date Krumm.
But Safina, blew her lead, going down 7-5 in the decider. Safina’s elder brother, Marat, was renowned for blazing winners and glazing out of the zone.
A distinctly dazed Safina said after her defeat that she saw her opponent starting to suffer from cramps.
But rather than focusing on her own game, she committed the cardinal sin and let her concentration drift.
Fatal in tennis terms. Perhaps a family trait. But touchingly humane.
Date Krumm played her first French Open more than two decades ago. Indeed little Dinara was toddling around the kindergarten in her native Moscow when Ms Date was testing her mettle in the Parisian dirt.
Date added Krumm to her name after hitching up with the German racing driver Michael Krumm and it was his yen to see her play competitively that led her to return from a 12 year retirement in 2008.
Date Krumm is 40 in four months and I’d like to think that Safina took pity on a veritable grande dame in a grand slam.
There’s no such concept of succour in the house of Rafael Nadal. The king of clay was in all conquering form against the French 18 year old Gianni Mina.
As one of the top junior players in the world you could say Mina is a major with the minors.
He had a bash with the playground’s alpha male instead of revising for his forthcoming Baccalaureat.
The good thing about going up against the four times champion is that he won’t have to worry about missing more revision period.
Beaten 6-2 6-2 6-2 in two hours 22 minutes. It was a lesson.
Sure the sun may be shining and the clay court technicians might be finding their angles and sliding into their shots but Dinara Safina was top spinning incarnate.
The former world number one was a double break up in the final set against the 39 year old Japanese player Kimiko Date Krumm.
But Safina, blew her lead, going down 7-5 in the decider. Safina’s elder brother, Marat, was renowned for blazing winners and glazing out of the zone.
A distinctly dazed Safina said after her defeat that she saw her opponent starting to suffer from cramps.
But rather than focusing on her own game, she committed the cardinal sin and let her concentration drift.
Fatal in tennis terms. Perhaps a family trait. But touchingly humane.
Date Krumm played her first French Open more than two decades ago. Indeed little Dinara was toddling around the kindergarten in her native Moscow when Ms Date was testing her mettle in the Parisian dirt.
Date added Krumm to her name after hitching up with the German racing driver Michael Krumm and it was his yen to see her play competitively that led her to return from a 12 year retirement in 2008.
Date Krumm is 40 in four months and I’d like to think that Safina took pity on a veritable grande dame in a grand slam.
There’s no such concept of succour in the house of Rafael Nadal. The king of clay was in all conquering form against the French 18 year old Gianni Mina.
As one of the top junior players in the world you could say Mina is a major with the minors.
He had a bash with the playground’s alpha male instead of revising for his forthcoming Baccalaureat.
The good thing about going up against the four times champion is that he won’t have to worry about missing more revision period.
Beaten 6-2 6-2 6-2 in two hours 22 minutes. It was a lesson.
Sunday, 23 May 2010
The Star Gazer
There are times in the Eurostar lounge whenit all seems worthwhile. The tennis world was over in the west of Paris at the French Open and I was on the train back to London.
I walked into the frequent travellers lounge and lo I noticed Ken Loach engaged auteur extraordinaire. I wanted to go up and say something but modesty forbad. Besides what can you say other than liked your films, look forward to seeing the latest.
I declined but he went up in my estimation because the woman he was travelling with loooked about his age. I'm sure that if I were a famous international art house director, I'd be going round with at least my third or fourth wife.
Only because that's what famous film directors are supposed to do. Not because I'm actually fickle.
Having resisted the temptation to go and hail Loach, I caved in when Ronnie Corbett entered. He looked so approachable. Not surprising really since I've been letting him into my sitting room for all my life.
I saw him and he had such a radiant face that I went up to him (and the lady accompanying him) and said something along the lines of sorry to disturb you but for all the hours of fun and laughter - thanks. Don't want to disturb you any more....
But we got talking and he and the lady asked me what I did and we had a rabbit about journalism and why they were in Paris.
I got into the office and recounted to my colleagues my brief interactions with the stars. One asked if Ronnie Corbett was really small.
I said he is shorter than me but I felt as if I was looking up to someone.
And of course I was. His brand of humour had put him right up there.
I walked into the frequent travellers lounge and lo I noticed Ken Loach engaged auteur extraordinaire. I wanted to go up and say something but modesty forbad. Besides what can you say other than liked your films, look forward to seeing the latest.
I declined but he went up in my estimation because the woman he was travelling with loooked about his age. I'm sure that if I were a famous international art house director, I'd be going round with at least my third or fourth wife.
Only because that's what famous film directors are supposed to do. Not because I'm actually fickle.
Having resisted the temptation to go and hail Loach, I caved in when Ronnie Corbett entered. He looked so approachable. Not surprising really since I've been letting him into my sitting room for all my life.
I saw him and he had such a radiant face that I went up to him (and the lady accompanying him) and said something along the lines of sorry to disturb you but for all the hours of fun and laughter - thanks. Don't want to disturb you any more....
But we got talking and he and the lady asked me what I did and we had a rabbit about journalism and why they were in Paris.
I got into the office and recounted to my colleagues my brief interactions with the stars. One asked if Ronnie Corbett was really small.
I said he is shorter than me but I felt as if I was looking up to someone.
And of course I was. His brand of humour had put him right up there.
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